Strange Perceptions by Chuck Heintzelman Page A

silver cup. She drained the cup. Then the attendant held a cup to my lips. Ealdred jerked my head away. Two additional guards grabbed my head, held it still, and opened my mouth for the liquid. The potion went down, burning my throat as it went. I coughed, but most the potion had went down.
    Guards moved me to the lower platform. They tied one of my arms to the platform before binding the other arm to Gytha’s with the golden cord.
    This was it, my final moment. I tried not to cry but couldn’t help it.
    My body began to convulse. Darkness surrounded me, coming in from the edge of my vision until I could see nothing. Then I could feel nothing. Then I knew nothing.

    It seemed only a moment later I was blinking my eyes. I could see, but my vision was still dark. Blurry dark images moved around darker images. Somebody hovered over me.
    My vision cleared. It was Gytha who bent over me. I was in a dark, candle-lit room. I saw stars through a window in the roof above me. I was in the wizard laboratory.
    I struggled to sit up.
    “Lay still,” Gytha said. “It will take a few moments for your strength to return.”
    “What happened?”
    The king came into my vision. “Gytha the Wise happened. After the ceremony she sprang into action. She said she could save you. Your dead body was brought here and somehow she returned your mind to your body.”
    Was this possible? I searched my memory, the knowledge of past wizards was gone.
    I sat up and breathed deep. I held out my arm and made a fist, slowly closing my fingers and opening them. Complete control, no Ealdred.
    “Your mother is in the castle,” Gytha said. “Her illness is easily remedied, but it will take a few weeks.”
    I stood, my legs shook but it felt great to be on my own feet.
    “Tayte, come before me,” the king said.
    I stepped to the king and he pulled out his sword.
    “Kneel,” he said.
    My throat was tight. I knelt before the king and tried to gulp.
    The king held his sword over my head. “For putting the welfare of others before your own.” He tapped my right shoulder with the sword. “And for fighting for truth.” He tapped my left shoulder. “I dub you Tayte the Righteous.” He tapped me head. “Now stand.”
    Shaking, I struggled to my feet.
    The applause surprised me. I looked around. A dozen or more people stood along the edge of the room. My father was one of them. He rushed to me and threw his arms around me. Gytha joined the hug.
    “Three cheers for Tayte the Righteous,” the king said.
    Together, everyone yelled “Hurrah. Hurrah. Hurrah.”

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